


Oncoming Shadows

by andromedastars



Series: Shadow Sight [1]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Gen, ShadowClan (Warriors), Slice of Life, War, actually a lot of this is definitely not stated in book, also i might change things that i want to change in the book and the overall series, but who cares?, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25925878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andromedastars/pseuds/andromedastars
Summary: ~*~Brokenstar's regime has shattered the lives of his ClanmatesThere's only so much his warriors can take~*~Darkpaw is a happy go lucky apprentice loyal to her ClanDarkpaw doesn't know what's coming next~*~
Relationships: Darkflower (Warriors)/Robinwing (Warriors), Nightstar (Warriors)/Tangleburr (Warriors)
Series: Shadow Sight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881517
Kudos: 1





	1. Only Kits, Playing at Being Warriors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~*~  
> Russetfur thinks she's seen it all in war  
> Russetfur is wrong  
> ~*~

_"they can't live in a world full of everlasting violence and non-stop fighting. they can't live in a world of crowfood scavenging and constant death and pain. they need peace, love, true hunting, and above all, a wise leader who can mold its clan into a feared clan, by strength and faith in the warrior code, not by violence and bloodshed."_

\- russetfur, prologue

I watch as the two new kits of Brightflower, Marigoldkit and Mintkit, are being carried to their final resting place by their scruff. They're kits! They shouldn't be dead yet! A couple of kits scamper over to see what is going on, especially the older ones. "It shouldn't be like this," I whisper. Darkkit and Whitekit are barely three moons old. Brokenstar can't make them into apprentices now! Tangleburr startles as Brokenstar calls yet another Clan meeting. I know what the queen is thinking: Will Brokenstar apprentice my kits this time? None of the kits in the nursery are supposed to be apprentices; they have to wait at least another three moons.

I remember when Mosspaw and Volepaw were being carried back to the ShadowClan camp. Something seemed to be repeating itself. Featherstorm was devastated when her two young sons were carried back, bloody and limp, and refused to eat or speak for days. Blizzardwing also was heartbroken, but instead took his grief and anger out on Yellowfang, Wetkit, Brownkit, and Brokenstar. He never was the same once his only sons died, and was found dead on the RiverClan border, along with some other warrior we didn't recognize.

As Brokenstar leaps up the Clanrock, his deputy pads over to sit next to it, and Runningnose steps out of the den another rock has made. I sit next to my friend, Tangleburr, who's kits are being apprenticed. The leader clears his throat and announces, "Today we have the making of three new apprentices!" Tangleburr tries for a smile but it ends up looking like she's being tortured. Giving her a hopeful smile, I place my tail soothingly on her spine, as she watches nervously with Nightpelt, her mate. She leans over and tells me, "They shouldn't be apprenticed yet! I'm so scared for them. What if they die horribly like Volepaw, or Mosspaw?"

"Don't mention those names in front of Featherstorm," growls Nightpelt. His battered pelt is fluffed out in anger. "She still hasn't gotten over the death of her, what is it now, three kits?" I know why he's angry: he's afraid his three kits are going the same route as Mosspaw and Volepaw. The dark brown she-cat is sitting behind us, eyes staring vacantly into the distance. Oh boy, I hope she isn't losing her mind, like Brightflower did. We still haven't managed to safely retrieve Brackenfoot's body from WindClan territory.

"We also have a new warrior to introduce," continues Brokenstar, his bent tail swishing occasionally. "Darkkit, Whitekit, Foxkit, and Dawnpaw, come up!" Three kits bound up excitedly, their tiny legs dangling as they struggle up the Clanrock. Eventually Blackfoot has to help them up, while Dawnpaw merely hoists herself up, looking a bit nervous. "I'll start with Dawnpaw." Turning to the ginger she-cat, he says, "Dawnpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

Dawnpaw's face brightens as she replies, "I do."

Brokenstar continues, "Then from this moment on you will be known as Dawncloud. You are now a full warrior of ShadowClan, and will serve us well in battle." The cats around me start cheering (if tentatively) the warrior's new name, and I join in. After all, it's so nice to see new warriors in the Clan, just not so young. It's only been three moons since Dawncloud's apprentice ceremony.

"Now we have three new apprentices!" Brokenstar continues. "These kits have reached the age of apprenticeship, and therefore are ready to become apprentices." Tangleburr's kits are squirming with delight; they are too excited to think about the dangers of fighting so young. "Foxkit, Whitekit, and Darkkit, from this day on until you become warriors, you will be known as Foxpaw, Whitepaw, and Darkpaw. Foxpaw, your mentor will be Finchflight. He is a seasoned warrior, and will prove to be an excellent mentor.

"Whitepaw, your mentor will be Fernshade. She is a formidable warrior, with all the skills necessary to turn you into a true warrior. And Darkpaw, your mentor will be Scorchwind. He is an excellent tom, and will be mentoring you in the ways of the warrior." I can't help but join in. These are my friend's kits. Why shouldn't I be congratulating them for being patient for six moons and the time it takes to get through a ceremony? No, not six moons. They've only waited for three moons. I'm surprised they didn't go to Brokenstar when they were only one moon old and demand he make them warriors. Nevertheless, it's a wondrous thing. Darkpaw, Foxpaw, and Whitepaw all grin excitedly. They're tiny, their stubby legs and tail only beginning to grow out. Whitepaw hasn't even been weaned yet. What is Brokenstar thinking?

~*~

I'm sharing tongues with Nutwhisker after telling him I'm expecting kits. I'm so happy that these kits are ours to raise, and ours to enjoy. Nothing can possibly disrupt this happy moment. I don't have an apprentice yet, but there will be later times, when I can have the joy of training my very own apprentice. I have time; I'm not old. Nutwhisker often tells me I'm as old as Ashfur and then I slap my tail across his face because no, I am not! We're still good friends, and obviously mates, and maybe I can stay in this forever . . .

"Foxpaw! Foxpaw! No! What happened?" I perk up as I see Tangleburr rushing to a tom holding a limp ginger she-cat . . . oh no it's Foxpaw! Foxpaw has been hurt! I run over while calling to Nightpelt and we run to see that Tangleburr's daughter has a big gash in her side, along with a cut on her throat. Finchflight gently lays her down, and we see he has a big wound still pouring blood on his head, with several tufts of fur pulled out and a deep gash in his leg. "It was foxes," he growls. "Foxpaw took most of the damage, she's still alive, look at her chest, but she might not make it." Nightpelt nods and takes the ginger she-cat to Runningnose.

Ashheart is next to go into the den, her pelt all soaked with blood and blood dripping from a place close to her neck. Clawface follows, his pelt all matted and with cuts all over. "You're gonna kill yourself if you keep doing this," Nightpelt mutters. His brother simply rolls his eyes and waits in front of the den. An overwhelmed Runningnose sighs in exasperation, then curses when he sees more cats coming in.

"Great StarClan, what happened?" he asks, gathering cobwebs to stop the bleeding on Foxpaw. Clawface looks up and replies, "Foxes, duh. Then when we were carrying back Foxpaw some idiot accidentally crossed the WindClan border!" He pointedly glares at Boulder, who has a fresh nick on his ear and a couple slashes that aren't too deep.

"How was I supposed to know? The scent wasn't very clear, and you know WindClan scent isn't distinctive!"

"No, it's ThunderClan scent that isn't distinctive! Now you might cost us an apprentice."

"Well that isn't my fault, isn't it? I wasn't the one that decided to take on a fully grown fox, much less both of them. Besides, I never told Foxpaw that foxes weren't that strong."

Finchflight thrusts his face towards the gray tom. "I told her cubs and younger foxes weren't that strong! Not fully grown foxes! That stupid she-cat doesn't know the difference between cub and fox!" At that point, Tangleburr leaps onto Finchflight, snarling "Don't you dare call my daughter stupid!" Nightpelt jumps into the fray, trying to pull his mate off the black-and-white tom. While trying to pull the cats off one another, somebody shrieks, and I slip in a pool of blood. At the bottom is Finchflight, with a deep wound from his throat to his shoulder. Runningnose mutters a few swear words before dragging a whimpering Finchflight into his den.

"I have two wounded cats to treat," he grumbles. "Thanks a lot, ShadowClan!"

I can't think straight. Is this the world my kits will grow up in? But they can't. They can't live in a world full of everlasting violence and non-stop fighting. They can't live in a world of crowfood scavenging and constant death and pain. They need peace, love, true hunting, and above all, a wise leader who can mold its Clan into a feared Clan, by strength and faith in the warrior code, not by violence and bloodshed.

~*~

"Another beautiful she-kit!" Runningnose whispers in my ear as I strain to get the last kit out. I'm exhausted, in pain, but it's been worth it so far. Two she-kits lie at my belly as the last one tries to come into the world. Runningnose asks Nutwhisker, who's outside, to fetch a stick for me. "I'm fine," I manage to say before another wave of pain rolls over me and I let out a bloodcurdling yowl. Our medicine cat tosses me the stick. "Yeah right. Bite down on that." I do, and it doesn't splinter, but shows signs of cracking, and more pain starts washing over me before a tom is placed right next to me. "It's done," the gray-and-white tom murmurs. "You have three kits."

"Call Nutwhisker in," I tell him as I push the kits towards my belly. They are so perfect, so fragile, and they're Nutwhisker's—and mine. Nutwhisker rushes in as Runningnose tells him he has two daughters and a son. "Oh, Russetfur, they're perfect," he meows, purring as he observes each of them. "Whaddya wanna name them?" His fur brushes against mine, his purrs in sync with mine.

"How about you name one she-cat and you name the other?" He nods.

"And we'll both name the tom." He prods the tabby she-cat, who was the first to come out and was the most painful for me to get out. Her legs are a bit longer as she shoves her way to my belly for milk. "That one's Tallkit. I don't care what her warrior name is, but she's Tallkit for now." Now it's time for me to decide on a name for this mottled she-cat pushing up against her sister. Her brown fur reminds me of the dirt around what Hal used to call the "apple" trees that the Twolegs planted. "That's Applekit."

Nutwhisker gently butts me but doesn't argue. "Applekit it is then."

The kits shove each other away in a chance to be closest to my belly. Tallkit, is of course, succeeding, while Oakkit has trouble. Poor Applekit is stuck in the middle of it, but I just laugh. I will help Oakkit and Applekit, but I remember when I was like that, pushing against Terra and Bronze, safe and cozy in my mother, Rye's, belly. The happiness couldn't last forever, though. No, life on the streets was unpredictable. My father Hal became increasingly reckless and aggressive. He was mean, loud, and increadibly demanding. One day, my parents argued, and it was resolved, but Terra was on the ground, blood still gushing from her neck wound, her eyes still in shock as if they were still attacking her. I don't want to think about that day. I can't.

I have a new family now. New friends. New kin. I don't have to live out on the streets, looking out for myself and only myself, worrying about my father killing me too. I can look after my kits and my mate. I can have friendships, and I can trust other cats. I can be myself, not a suspicious ally cat in ShadowClan. The thought is hilarious, and I nearly burst out laughing the second I first thought it. ShadowClan isn't what it used to be. Cedarstar was a noble leader, wise and fierce. Our strength, our reputation came from following the warrior code and being skilled fighters. Raggedstar was naive, and I don't care what anyone says, he was the worst in my opinion. With Brokenstar as leader, though, pfft, he makes his dear old father look like the greatest leader of all time!

Whatever. Right now I'm not worried about the future my kits will have. Right now I'm in the moment with my precious kits and Nutwhisker and breathing in the scent of Tallkit, Applekit, and Oakkit. Now they've calmed down and actually started suckling milk. My tail curls around them. "They are perfect, Nutwhisker," I whisper to him. "And guess what? They're ours." Our peace is disturbed by a horrifying scream, one that doesn't sound like it came from a cat. My mate leaps to his paws, to see what has happened. I hope that what I think has happened has not.

I am wrong.

And the reality of our situation is clear once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another new series haha! this one is also something i've been thinking up for a while
> 
> anyways tell me what you think! as always i love reading your comments


	2. Once Upon a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~*~  
> Darkpaw knows something's off about her Clan  
> Darkpaw doesn't know what Brokenstar's up to  
> ~*~

_“in the old days, we were highly respected. now ashfur tells me we are no better than rogues.”_  
\- darkpaw, chapter 1

I slip out through the dirtplace tunnel so that the others don't see. Quietly, where nobody can see or hear us, we have gathered moss, and sneaked out to find the elders. We have to be stealthy; if Brokenstar finds out what we're doing, he'll have our fur. Next to me, Brownpaw is frowning. "Are you sure we're doing the right thing?" His brother, Littlepaw, shoves him. "Of course, you toadbrain! The elders can't take care of themselves, that's why we're doing it for them."

"Quiet, all of you!" a voice hisses. "Do you want Brokenstar to find out?" Brownpaw and Littlepaw both shake their heads quickly, and a gray tom steps out of the shadows, with a skinny brown tom next to him. "Good. Now where are the elders located?" Whitepaw looks up and sniffs the air. I do the same, and pick up a faint scent to the right of where we are. Flicking my tail in that general direction, Flintfang nods and leads the way right to where the elders are located. Clawface and his apprentice follow, while the others kind of stay to the back, unsure of this. I bound to the front, determined to see my father after he was sent unceremoniously to the elders. _"You're too weak,"_ he snarled when Nightpelt refused to leave. _"You can't keep up in a fight, and you're out of breath half the day. You're useless. Go, or I'll make you." My mother told me Brokenstar usually wasn't this harsh in sending cats to the elders._

Nightpelt pokes his head from the ferns. "They brought moss!"

A brown tabby head and a gray head also pop out. "Good," mutters Ashfur, a gray tom. "My back is sore from the damp moss and I hate scratchy moss. Clawface nuzzles his brother while Flintfang licks his mother. It seems like what Ashfur describes as "the good old days." Sometimes I wonder if it would be worth it to go back to the way it was back then: a Clan backed by the warrior code, feared for their warriors' reputation as highly seasoned fighters. Ashfur told us ThunderClan told their kits to stay away from our borders. Apprentices from any Clan were told not to patrol the borders unless competent in battle. Now . . . now we're just a Clan that seems doubly strong on the outside, but on the inside, we're rotting. I'm six moons old now, and even I can tell.

"It's good to see you again," Nightpelt purrs, jolting me out of my thoughts. "How's training?"

"Horrible," I grumble. "Brokenstar doesn't give us decent food. I'm starving! And I can barely keep up in battle training." Nightpelt flashes his claws, and I know he's thinking about Foxpaw's death. I poked my head into Runningnose's den day after day, hoping that she would get better, and to get a glimpse of her. It was me who screamed when I saw the glaze in her eyes, screaming as she wouldn't wake up, wouldn't move, wouldn't do anything. Scorchwind had to drag me out of the medicine cat den personally and calm me down. How embarrassing.

At that moment, Ashfur drops a finch at my paws. "Have this," he meows. "We have enough thanks to those old badgers.” He points towards Nightpelt and Finchflight.

Nightpelt scratches at the earth, a growl rumbling in his throat. "I'm not old, Ashfur. However, in your case . . ."

Ashfur playfully hisses. "Who are you calling old?"

Oh, Ashfur. I haven't been here in so long. I miss settling down and listening to him talk about the old ShadowClan, the one where Cedarstar led. In the old days, we were highly respected. Now Ashfur tells me we are no better than rogues. He told me so much, and I miss it all. _"I grew up with Silverflame,"_ he told me. _"She was one of the oldest elders and hunts with StarClan now. But she was my best friend and my mate." "Wow,"_ I had replied. _"So what was she like?"_ And he told me so many stories about her. Right now all I can see is how fragile he has become since I last came. His fur is duller than ever, his eyes losing their shine and excitement they used to have when he told me stories. Words don't come to him as easily, and he has a hard time seeing things. Soon, he too, will hunt with StarClan and join with his beloved mate.

"Tell us another story, Ashfur!" yowls Littlepaw, bouncing around on his paws. "Tell us another story!" Ashfur shifts around, moaning for a bit before settling down. "Fine," he murmurs. "One story before I go to sleep.

"I'll tell you the stories my elders told me when I was a kit.

“Once upon a time, there was a cat named Redscar . . .”

Ashfur is possibly the best storyteller in all the four Clans. With his storytelling, there’s never a dull moment. He settles into a rhythm and his eyes perk up, as if remembering the good old days.

“Redscar was, as the other Clans say about us, wily and untrustworthy, almost like a fox. Yet he was loyal and dedicated to ShadowClan. He knew how to manipulate the world around him, so he decided to plant a fake sign. A sign that showed Flowerstar, then Flowerstem, to be the next leader of ShadowClan. But nothing from StarClan had shown him this. No, he used his brain and sharp wits, to ensure the wellbeing of his Clan. My elders would say that each story has a lesson. And Redscar’s is that if you can, you must use your means and the world around you to better your Clan, and if possible, all the four Clans.”

He pauses for a minute. “How would you like to know about Cedarstar?”

“Cedarstar?” Brownpaw asks. “Is that an old leader?”

“Not as old as you’d think,” Ashfur chuckles. “He was the leader before Raggedstar, who himself was the leader before Brokenstar.” Another pause. “I grew up with Cedarstar. In fact, I was older than him. I was already a warrior by the time he entered this world.

“From the moment he was born Cedarstar was out to prove himself. The best fighter, the best hunter, the best prankster even. He was feisty, rude, and never paid attention. If no one kept his eyes on him, he would run off. And you could bet that he was up to no good. The day that I was assigned Cedarstar as my apprentice was the day I felt as though ShadowClan would be destroyed. Not disbanded, mind you. I thought Cedarstar, with all the new things he was allowed to do, would destroy the camp in a matter of minutes. He nearly did too, and his parents gave him a stern talking to. Yet he didn’t learn.

“I learned, slowly but surely, that Cedarstar learned best when he was being challenged and when he was doing something. If I had to tell him the Warrior Code we’d go on a walk, or practice a little fighting while doing so. The first time I realized this, I was going on a walk to calm myself down when he’d gotten on my nerves. He tagged along, and at first I was furious, but then I saw how much information he knew, and wondered where he got it from. He told me that it was usually when he was doing something else, and overheard it. From there, I began to alter my teaching methods.”

Ashfur sighed, closing his eyes. “Although he was learning a lot better, there were other issues. He was a troublemaker, and someone who could never seem to get through something without having him constantly telling himself to work on it. Cedarstar, though one of the kindest and most charismatic cats you’d ever meet, was constantly running around, and causing trouble. Maybe it was intentional, maybe it wasn’t. It was like his attention wandered.

“He did manage to get his troublemaking under control, but his attention still wandered.”

“Then how did he become leader? Isn’t that a bad thing?”

“A wandering attention is neither good, nor bad, Whitepaw. One can discover many things with an attention that leads you on an adventure. But the adventure must always be at the right times. I don’t believe that wandering off while your mentor is trying to tell you something is a good thing.”

As he continues to speak, the words flow ever more effortlessly out of his mouth. “Cedarstar could be seen as airheaded, but in the eyes of his Clan, he was sensible. Though his wandering attention and procrastination held him back, he fought through those obstacles, to become the great leader ShadowClan knew and loved.”

Littlepaw looks like he’s about to ask something, but Brownpaw cuts in. “Did he have a girlfriend? Who was he with? Oh! And--”

“Slow down,” Ashfur says. “His mate was Stonetooth, as true of a mate as he could be. Inseparable, those two were.”

Nightpelt nods from where he’s sitting. “They were very close. And I know how withdrawn Stonetooth became when Cedarstar lost his final life.”

“Was Cedarstar a good leader?” I ask.

“Perhaps the best one I’ve seen so far.”

“I think I was barely a moon old when Cedarstar became leader,” Hollyflower adds.

Poolcloud agrees. “He’s been our leader for so long.”

“He was better than Raggedstar,” Featherstorm sighs. “My son--I could never understand him.”

Finchflight snorts. “That just means you were a bad parent.”

“That’s not true!” she cries. “I loved them both dearly!”

“That means jackshit. You may have loved Raggedstar but he turned out to be a dick,” says Hollyflower.

“What about Scorchwind? He’s a good cat, right?” She looks to my mentor for reassurance. “Surely I was a good mother?”

He just stares back, not knowing what to say. Finally, he says something. “I believe my mother’s parenting had nothing to do with Raggedstar’s behavior and leadership. He is his own cat.” It wasn’t exactly an answer, but it shut Hollyflower and Finchflight up.

“Can you tell us more about Silverflame?” I look over to see Brownpaw badgering Ashfur once more. He chuckles.

“Maybe another time.”

“Aww.”

I roll my eyes. “We’ve already heard about Silverflame a hundred times. I want to know about someone else!”

“Well,” he begins, “I could tell you about Yellowfang.”

Everyone’s ears perk up at the mention of Yellowfang, the banished medicine cat who was the murderer of her own siblings, Mintkit and Marigoldkit. Although there was a rumor among the elders that it was in fact Brokenstar who killed them, no one exactly knows. And even if they did, no one dares refute Brokenstar’s words. His word, after all, is law.

He never gets to tell the story, for Scorchwind pricks his ears and startles, as if he hears something. With a flick of a tail, he mouths the word “run” before dashing off. I know what he means--someone’s coming. Someone who wouldn’t take kindly to us being here. I run after him.

Clawface and Flintfang lead the way back to the camp as Blackfoot and Boulder are just waking up. Holy shit they can snore. They've probably scared off all the prey from here to Highstones, but I don't dare say so. It's not good manners to badmouth the deputy or the senior warriors. And the punishment . . .

Badgerpaw bounds up to us. "How'd it go?" he whispers. "Did Ashfur tell you any stories?" We nod before Brokenstar calls yet another Clan meeting. "Let all cats old enough to fight gather beneath the Clanrock for a Clan meeting!" the brown tabby yowls. Cats pour out of their dens, some looking exhausted, some looking fresh. Brokenstar grins as he tells us what some of his warriors are eager to hear: "We're invading WindClan."

~*~

I sigh as the Gathering commences. Brokenstar hasn't yet told us the plan; he's only been discussing this for like the past five sunrises. Yep, he's got something in his mind. Out the corner of my eye, I see two RiverClan apprentices that weren't there before: a black-and-white she-cat and a dark gray she-cat. They bound up to me, their eyes filled with mischief. Before they can say anything, another cat barrels into the gray she-cat. "Careful, Runningpaw!" she hisses.

"Sorry, Shadepaw!" the light gray apprentice (who seems to be the oldest) slapping her tail across the other's face. "Didn’t see you there."

Shadepaw bites down on Runningpaw’s tail playfully. They tussle a little, before several more apprentices appear.

“Shadepaw! Runningpaw! Didn’t see you there!” a dark brown tabby calls. “Where’s Robinpaw?”

“She’s here, just chatting with someone else,” Runningpaw replies nonchalantly.

The tabby nods, before turning to Wetpaw and I. “Who’re these two?”

Shadepaw shrugs. “Dunno. We saw them and thought we’d introduce ourselves, but then Miss Fastpaws here tackled me.” Runningpaw stuck her tongue out in response.

"I’m Wetpaw," my friend says, introducing ourselves. "That's Darkpaw beside you." I smile and look around. "Are you new though? I haven't seen you two around."

It's the black-and-white cat who answers this time. "No, we aren't, this is our third Gathering. But I guess we either stayed to our own groups or just haven't gone to the same Gatherings." Her pelt blends in with the shadows as she points out some of the other apprentices. "You see that light brown she-cat over there?” I nod. “That’s Robinpaw, Runningpaw's sister. You’ve already met Runningpaw. Over there is Silverstream I think? And that's . . . Hey, is that Smokestorm?"

"No, silly!" A dark gray tom appears out of the shadows. "I'm Fogshine. _That's_ Smokestorm!" He points to another dark gray tom who looks identical to him.

The she-cat sighs. "Those two are impossible to figure out. Oh, and I'm Silverpaw." She waves to the brown tom. "That's Dustpaw. Beside him is—"

"Let the Gathering begin!" yowls Brokenstar. I tense, wondering what he will say next. He always says things that riles the other Clans up, and I have no idea how he’ll put his plan into motion. I guess I’ll have to find out. He clears his throat and begins with, "StarClan has truly blessed us. We have more cats than ever. Unfortunately, we do not have enough food or land to sustain us. So, Tallstar, would you be so generous as to give up some of your lands to ShadowClan?"

Shadepaw rolls her eyes. "That would be like if RiverClan would be willing to give up Sunningrocks to ThunderClan." She scoots closer. "Whaddya think of him? I think he's a bit too . . . big-headed for his own good." I nervously check around me for signs of his senior warriors. Speaking ill of Brokenstar can lead to exile, torture, or death, if you were lucky. Otherwise, you'd get a combination. Luckily nobody can hear me unless I yell what I'm about to say.

"Brokenstar's kind of a terrible leader."

"You think?"

"Not in the sense that he's a weak leader or an inexperienced one."

Runningpaw shoves me. "Quiet! I wanna hear our leader's response."

Tallstar had heard Brokenstar's plea for land, and he steps forward, clearly not happy about giving up his land.

"I'm not giving up any of my Clan's land," he snarls, and a cheer rises from the WindClan cats. "You may say you do not have enough food, Brokenstar, but I can tell as well as you do that your apprentices are thin and gaunt and starving while you are plump and well-fed. Tell me, how tall is your fresh-kill pile?"

Brownpaw leans over and whispers, "It's about twenty Blackfoots tall. Have you seen him? He's huge!" I giggle along with him, but no one else is smiling. In fact, they look worried.

“What do you mean? If it’s so big . . . why do you look like you’re starving?” asks Robinpaw, who has joined the group when I wasn’t paying attention. “In fact, you look tiny!”

“Yeah,” adds Dustpaw. “My brother is smaller than most other cats, even compared to someone normal sized like Redtail, and he’s definitely not as small as you two.” His eyes narrow. “Are you sure you’re not new apprentices?”

“No!” Wetpaw replies. “We’re just small!”

He doesn’t reveal the truth--that we are only six moons old, and yet have been training since we were three moons old. When Ashfur learned of this, I thought he would die of shock.

“Three moons?” he had cried. “The gall of him!”

It hadn’t been a big deal back then, to me at least. I could be just as good of a warrior, even if I was younger. The apprentices around me seem to think otherwise.

“ShadowClan must have a lot of small cats if that’s the average size nowadays,” mutters Runningpaw. Luckily, a lanky black tom saves me from having to answer by hissing at them. Runningpaw rolls her eyes, but does not say more.

All of us fix our attention on Crookedstar, who is speaking now. The RiverClan leader glances nervously at Tallstar and Brokenstar, who are now glaring at each other. Clearing his throat, he begins. "RiverClan has prospered. Graypool has given birth to a kit of her own, Swankit. She has served us as a resident queen for many moons, and is ready to retire to the elders’ den. We thank her for her service.

"Some more happy news: Whitepaw has become a warrior, and is now Whiteclaw." Cheers erupt from around the clearing, except from some of the ShadowClan cats. With that Crookedstar steps back, and Bluestar takes the center.

"Frostfur has just given birth to Lionheart's kits: Brackenkit, Thornkit, Brightkit, and Cinderkit. And Dustpaw and Graypaw have been made apprentices." I see Dustpaw with another cat, a tortoiseshell with a fluffy tail. Another cat is standing with a big cat with a large amount of floof around his neck. All four of them are understandably happy. A cheer rises from the ThunderClan cats as both Dustpaw and the other apprentice, which I assume to be Graypaw, stand looking proud of themselves.

Robinpaw steps up next to me, shifting her paws somewhat. “So. How is your Clan doing, exactly? Brokenstar’s rambling on about you guys starving, but I doubt he’s reliable.”

“Well enough,” I respond, not wanting to reveal too much. “Russetfur has some new kits and ShadowClan is prospering.”

“Oh? Kits?” She smiles a bit. “I like kits.”

“Yeah.” They are a welcome sign in most Clans, but not in ShadowClan. More mouths to feed . . . and more chance of death.

I don’t pay attention to the Gathering. I only pay attention to my new friends. It concludes with three of the four Clans wishing each other well, and I turn to face them. “Until next time, I suppose.”

“Until next time,” Robinpaw replies. As I turn, I can feel her eyes on me. She might’ve said something but I don’t hear it.

_Until next time,_ I think, smiling.

~*~

I blink my eyes open, and then I see two kits toddling around a figure being carried by two others. "Whassagoinon?" I ask groggily.

Badgerpaw, with his back to me still, answers with, "Finflysdeaddidyourhear . . ." and then started snoring. Shrugging, I drag myself into the courtyard to meet with my mentor, Scorchwind, who has a toad for me.

"Don't tell Brokenstar," he says, winking. He tosses me the fat piece of prey, and we walk to where the training area is, a secluded section of forest not too far from where the elders are. "Okay. Now, today you will be learning the half-turn belly rake. Flintfang and Badgerpaw will be training with us as well."

I nod, then wonder if Scorchwind has any other cats around to show me. He explains, however, that today he'll be seeing if I can figure it out on my own. "You're a bright apprentice," he adds, smiling. So I'm alone, I guess. I have to fight Badgerpaw, who's been an apprentice slightly longer than I have—only a moon—and learn the half-turn belly rake. Yeesh. So much pressure. _Half-turn belly rake,_ I think, trying to evaluate this complex turn. Flintfang's with his apprentice now, and Badgerpaw is riled up, excited to fight.

"Come at me!" he chirps, bouncing around. "You wanna fight? You wanna fight?" His mentor gives a purr of amusement and tells him to stop wasting his energy on being a toad. The striped tom sighs and lunges forward. _It's a belly rake, I tell myself, but with a half-twist._ So I dart underneath him and turn to swipe at his exposed underbelly, but he loses balance and falls on me. "Get off, you lump of fur!" I hiss, and he struggles to his paws.

Scorchwind frowns as he replays what I just did. "Not quite," he finally says. "Try again." This time, I manage to get out before the tom squashes me; however, I've landed on my back and Badgerpaw is able to pummel my belly. I've been through two more tries before Scorchwind decides to teach me the move properly. "All right. Flintfang, why don't you stand over there? Pretend you're about to pounce on me. The gray tom gets down low as if he's going to crush his opponent.

Suddenly, before Flintfang has even twitched a muscle, the ginger tom darts forward on his side, slipping underneath his opponent's belly and giving it a couple pokes with his paws before swiftly darting out the other side. "Wow," Badgerpaw murmurs. "He makes it look so easy." I nod, in awe of my mentor.

"That's how you do it," he purrs, satisfied. "Now go on, try it." This time, Badgerpaw gets to try it out on me. I brace myself, looking as though I'm going to run forward any second now. He darts underneath me, so I drop on him, careful not to suffocate him with my weight. "Hey!" he complains. "Not fair!"

"Well, in battle, am I supposed to _let_ you rake my belly?" I argue.

"Shut up."

"That's enough," meows Flintfang, eyeing both of us sternly. We practice the move until we're sore all over from being squashed underneath each other. By the time we're done, I can barely walk back to camp. There, I crash into my nest, sending moss flying all over. My brother growls at me and shakes off the stray bits of moss, before turning around. Littlepaw snuggles close to me. "So," he meows. "Scorchwind make you train till you faint again?"

Badgerpaw yawns. "He tried."

Whitepaw groans that he needs sleep for tomorrow's practice, and we all settle down before slipping into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some more tomfoolery! i love writing apprentices they and their shenanigans are honestly so fun to write
> 
> basing cedarstar's attention issues and other stuff off of me! first self-projection of the series i suppose. no i don't know if i have anything.
> 
> cedarstar is that wise old gay grandpa you go to for advice honestly.
> 
> here are the [allegiances](https://warriorsfanfic.fandom.com/wiki/Oncoming_Shadows) and also the story! it's still going under some revamps so the one here is the updated version.
> 
> i also have an [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/phoen.ixical__/) and a [deviantart](https://www.deviantart.com/starry-ghosts)! be on the lookout for fanart of this 👀


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